


Just Visiting

by SegaBarrett



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:22:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse visits Walt in prison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Visiting

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Breaking Bad, and I make no money from this. I also don't know how accurate this is, but I wanted to fit the prompt.
> 
> Written for kink_bingo, "confined/caged".

The thing Jesse hated most was the smell of the place. It was like sweat and metal and cleaning products, all wrapped up into one. After that would probably be the feeling of claustrophobia. Like one of these days the guards would let him in, but they wouldn’t let him out again.

He reached up and fiddled with the ring on his finger. The idea had been a pretty haphazard one, and it hadn’t gotten them spousal privilege, but it had gotten him these visits. Jesse figured that was good enough, after what Mr. White had done.

Jesse let out a sigh. Talking to the woman at the front desk, behind what he assumed to be bullet-proof glass, was next. She seemed to know him by now, or maybe he was imagining the sympathetic look she was giving him.

Either way, he was buzzed in.

“Hey, Mr. White.”

There was some kind of section of the place for this sort of thing, but it felt as much like a cell as wherever Mr. White had been spending most of his time. It was painted a dull gray, and nothing about this put Jesse in the mood to do much of anything.

Jesse always managed to muster up some kind of enthusiasm, though. After all, he should be grateful to Mr. White, for taking the rap for him, for what had happened to Gale, hell, for everything.

When he saw the older man, it was, as always, a bit of a kick in the stomach. He wasn’t running things in here, at least not by the looks of it. He was paler and thinner each time that Jesse saw him, a little closer to death each time. 

Jesse leaned in and put his arms around Mr. White’s shoulders, with a practiced sort of ease. He held him close, shut his eyes as he felt his partner breathing against his shoulder. A reminder that, at least, he was breathing, even if they were trapped in here. Even if this was the end for him, and the end for he and Jesse together.

“Do you want to?” Jesse whispered. He always asked; he knew that one day, the answer would have to be “no”, that the confinement and the disease raging through Mr. White’s body would have combined to make him unable.

Yet, today, the answer was a nod.

He didn’t speak much these days.

Jesse pressed his lips against Mr. White’s. It was a slow kiss, soft. No pressure. No point in getting too eager in here, in rushing things. It’s not as if Mr. White had anywhere to go, anything to get to. Not anymore. 

Jesse breathed him in. Sweat and Lysol or something like that, something to decontaminate. He wondered if Mr. White had spent most of the week in the prison infirmary again, like the last time. The last time when he hadn’t been sure whether there would be a next time. 

The time when he was sure Mr. White would die within these walls.

Jesse nipped at Mr. White’s lips, then leaned back, lying on the floor and trying not to think about what might have happened on it before – every single prison movie and show he had seen started to flood back to him. He pushed them away.

“Come touch me,” he whispered, and Mr. White did. His hands trailed down Jesse’s side, to his hips, gripping them before finally moving over to Jesse’s groin.  
Jesse closed his eyes. Pictured them being back in Mr. White’s old condo, or maybe on Jesse’s futon. Better times. Much safer times, before all of their moments had to be locked away here. He could feel every wall pressing up against him, like it was one of those magician’s tricks where they had to escape before they found themselves crushed by the weight.

Jesse’s pants must have come off, because now, he could feel Mr. White’s hands around his cock. Then, a gentle nudge to turn over, to get into position. He’d brought something, and his hands groped clumsily over to his pockets to pull out the bottle of lube and present it to the older man.

He could hear the cap pop off. Then he felt the cold tip of Mr. White’s finger probing him. He zoned out now, tried to picture somewhere, again, outside of these walls. This time, he couldn’t – he felt like he was trapped in a box, locked in. Maybe buried alive. It was cold in here, the floor and the metal, but he suddenly felt overheated. It was like he was suffocating.

Jesse tried to brush it off as Mr. White went from one finger to two – he didn’t even really react to it much anymore. There wasn’t a point. As Mr. White started to push his cock in, however, Jesse let his mouth slip open into a gasp.

It didn’t even hurt anymore. It had at first, those furied times back in Jesse’s house where Mr. White had had him on the futon or in front of the TV on the floor. Then it had been new and exciting, dangerous, so Jesse had loved that it had. The discomfort had made his heart race. He had tried to key it had, had tried to act like he was in one of those old movies where he had to bite down on a stick or something. A trooper.

Now he was just pretending. It had all gone out of him, and it was a show he was putting on for Mr. White. Some half-assed attempt to be that bit of light shining through the bars of the cell to keep him alive.

To somehow not let him die in here, trapped in here.

Mr. White was moving now, thrusting, hands on Jesse’s hips, but it was all so dispassionate; they both knew that the cell and the whole damn suffocating place was a third partner in this that they didn’t want but couldn’t escape. 

Jesse still hadn’t opened his eyes by the time he felt Mr. White cum. They separated, looked at each other with gazes they couldn’t quite read, cleaned up and parted. 

“I’ll be back next week,” Jesse mumbled quietly. He couldn’t look at his partner.

“See you then.”


End file.
